


Tiger Mom

by gettinyinggywithit



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettinyinggywithit/pseuds/gettinyinggywithit
Summary: "I have not been taught to be gentle," Tsukuyo says, watching Seita out of the corner of her eye. "I have been taught to be fierce." —for ep 269, the learning history episode
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	Tiger Mom

**Author's Note:**

> Just really wanted to write something that was Tsukuyo-centric, some character building. I also just really loved this little episode short. Some Gintsu snuck in there, hope nobody complains.

_I love you like a lion, like a thunderstorm, like a helpless rage_. — Ken Follet, _The Pillars of the Earth_

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.

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There is one, immovable fact: Tsukuyo loves Seita in ways that baffle her. She has never had children at close range before; she's never known siblings. So to live with Hinowa and Seita in Yoshiwara is a new experience that leaves her feelings like a fawn learning to walk.

She evinces a tightly controlled appearance of that love. She does not read bedtime stories to him. She does not gather him in her arms after a long day for a hug. She does not cook his meals. But the truth is that the boy could ask her for anything and she would climb mountains to retrieve it.

 _Tsukuyo-nee, I'm hungry_ — and there are dango sticks by the dozens in his eyesight.

 _Tsukuyo-nee, can I have-?_ — and before he can finish, the toy is in his hands.

 _Tsukuyo-nee, is it all right if-?_ — and whatever it is, it is always all right.

All these things are delivered to him, neatly, abruptly, with her face turned away as she drops the object of desire before him. She coughs uncomfortably before skipping away with her troops.

"You spoil him, Tsukuyo _-nee_ ," Gintoki teases, a smile tugging at his lips.

Hinowa giggles behind her palm good-naturedly. "Oi, Gintoki, don't tease Tsukuyo, I'm sure she is just practicing being a mother for herself one day—" Hinowa stops abruptly at the death look that Tsukuyo fixes on her behind Gintoki's back.

Absently, Gintoki says, "Really," but does not pursue the subject.

Later, watching Seita play with the other children from her balcony, she wonders: _Is Seita just practice for the real thing?_

/

So when Seita begins preparing himself to enter school, she takes it very seriously. She buys expensive books and writing materials, a comfortable seat where he could work, brings tea and snacks every chance she has. Models for science books, novels and poetry for Japanese, even a few manga translated into foreign languages.

Hinowa continues to laugh; Gintoki continues to chide — "He's becoming a man, you don't have to baby him." But Gintoki always earns a kunai between the eyes.

When he begins to turn to history, Tsukuyo studies Seita's books for weeks, carefully memorizing every word, repeating them back to herself. It is painstaking work, as she isn't fully literate, and much of Japanese history is news to her, since she grew up in Yoshiwara and knows very little about the outside world. For hours every week, she dedicates time to studying, crouched at a small writing desk in the corner of her bedroom.

Once while the kids are outside playing, Gintoki finds her bent to her task, peering over her shoulder before she can stop him.

"Oh, you're studying," he says, a bit surprised. "Why?" he blurts.

"Because Seita will have to read these books very soon," she says calmly, not looking at him. "And if he has questions, I want to be able to help him."

"What a mother," Gintoki says with a sigh. Still, it sounds like he is smiling. She almost refutes his statement: _Hinowa_ is Seita's mother. _Hinowa_ is the mother that Seita worked so hard to acquire. But she doesn't, because next Gintoki comments: "I hadn't expected your handwriting to look like this."

Tsukuyo immediately flushes from her temple down to her chest. She is holding the brush a bit awkwardly, it's true; she's much more comfortable with kunai. And no one would call her script beautiful.

"What?" She says irritably, rounding on him. "Are you here to make fun of me? For being ignorant?" In an instant, she is so angry that tears prick her eyes. She refuses to acknowledge them by wiping them away. "I grew up in Yoshiwara," she reminds him before Gintoki can answer. "No one bothers to teach girls here how to _read_."

Gintoki's face remains carefully passive.

She turns away and mutters, "Seita will learn to read. He will learn to write. And he will choose his path in life."

For a moment, they are both silent. The air is so thick, she can't find the strength to swallow.

"So you taught yourself, then?" There is such admiration in his voice that Tsukuyo stops staring at the page before her. Suddenly he is at her shoulder, taking the brush from her hand. "Remember that each _kanji_ has a stroke order," he says quietly, writing the word for "war" next to hers, then the _hira_ _gana_ below it. His script isn't beautiful either, but it looks neater and more balanced. She watches carefully. Then Gintoki glances at her. "Got it?"

Tsukuyo nods slowly, taking the brush back from him and trying to copy it. She is still flushed from the anger, from the humbling experience, from his closeness, from the gentleness in his voice. But she endures; these are skills that Seita needs, and if Gintoki is willing to share them with her, then all the better.

/

There is another immoveable fact: When she first noticed a scrappy runt sniffling around in Yoshiwara, she did not think too much of him. She had been very devoted to her Hyakka work at that time and wracking her brains for ways to get out from under Hosen's thumb, for the good of everyone.

She remembers one vicious night, years ago now, when he had stood across the street from Hinowa's prison, staring silently for well over an hour. The clients and women on the street mostly paid him no mind, but a few frowned warily at the child. From her perch high up on a nearby roof, she spotted his familiar mat of hair, the tattered yukata. In a moment, she leapt through the night sky, landing silently by his side.

The boy glanced up and flinched away immediately at the tall, imposing woman who had suddenly appeared, like a ghost. Tsukuyo coolly blew smoke from her lips and looked down at him.

"Children should be at home in bed," she cautioned softly.

At her voice, he had flushed and looked away. "I can't." His voice was small, smaller than anything she'd ever heard before.

A long pause ensued. She guessed immediately that he had no parents, another homeless orphan. Out of the corner of her eye, as she smoked, she took in more of his person: chipped and dirt-encrusted fingernails; dry lips; sunken cheeks. He was half corpse already. How old? Must be no older than eight. Tall for his age, then.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, beginning to move away. The boy snapped his head up to her, unspeaking. "Stay close," she murmured. And he did.

/

"My mother is in there," the boy told her another night. Another night of him staring through the red lights of Yoshiwara, straining himself to catch a glimpse of the most beautiful woman in the sky. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to get him to stop coming. Every time he showed, she would watch him until he began to attract too much attention, then whisked him away for a meal.

"Ah," Tsukuyo made a noncommittal noise. How many times had she heard this story? She knew immediately that nothing the boy said could change their fates; if his mother truly was in there, then no amount of tears and pleading could get her out.

The boy chewed his rice cakes and then added: "Her name is Hinowa."

That's when Tsukuyo felt a cold shiver run through her. She nearly dropped her pipe. In an instant, she had the boy by the front of his yukata, his face white and eyes wide-eyed before her own. She was panting, but couldn't say why.

"Don't," she ground out, "say that _ever_ again, do you hear me?"

The boy's mouth dropped open. His rice cakes fell from his hand and hit the ground. She saw his eyes glass over, his lip tremble. But the tears did not leap from his eyes; nor did he whimper. He set his jaw. "No," he said bravely. "She _is_ my mother, and I won't stop saying that. No one can stop me."

Tsukuyo's face pulled a grimace and she dropped the boy down on the ground.

"Then you are doomed."

/

Of course, it wasn't long after that that Gintoki showed up, with his Odd Jobs kids. Watching him with two children not much older than the boy she had terrified, Tsukuyo felt a pang of deep shame. How could this idiot have such close familial relations with these kids, when her presence was only a terror? He showed immense trust in them, in their strength, yet could barrage them in an instant; in return, they could tease and pull at him, hanging off his shoulders like they were playground monkey bars. Had she ever seen such a family?

In her mind, she visited and revisited her encounters with the boy who called Hinowa mother. She had never asked his name before Gintoki arrived.

After, he says of Seita: "So the kid got his mother back." Then pulls a soft smile: Seita and Kagura are chasing each other around in the street while Shinpachi tries to referee. Hinowa, from her chair nearby, is laughing like there is no greater delight. She is radiant; all eyes pull toward her. Truly the sun made flesh.

Tsukuyo nods. "Hinowa will make a great mother." Then, after another beat, she adds, "It's good to see him with other children for a change. Laughing like this."

Gintoki glances at her then. "You've known him a long time." It is not a question.

Tsukuyo takes a drag from her pipe. "I used to take him to eat when he came to Yoshiwara to see Hinowa."

"I see." He crosses one leg over the other, leaning against the doorway. "So it seems Seita has earned himself not one mother, but two."

She closes her eyes to his suggestion. "No. I'll never be his mother." Is there a twinge of regret in her voice? "He hardly speaks to me." Then another pause, and she opens her eyes to look at Gintoki. She finds him watching her very seriously, his face no longer slack. Startled, she blinks quickly away and swallows. "He's afraid of me," she pushes out.

At that, Gintoki actually chuckles. " _I'm_ afraid of you, but I'm still here."

"You don't understand," she insists, her eyes on Seita. He is small, brown, still very thin but beginning to take on health like a warm cloak. So different already from the scrawny brat she used to feed a few times a week, only a month ago. "I have not been taught to be gentle," she confesses, "I have been taught to be fierce."

Gintoki eyes her, no doubt taking in the kunai in her hair, strapped to her obi. "All mothers are fierce, Tsukuyo," he says quietly. Then he whistles for Kagura and Shinpachi, gestures that it's time to go. "Things will change. Give it time," he adds, waving a hand back over his shoulder.

/

It does change. Slowly.

He stops tiptoeing around her to avoid making noises. When she calls, he comes without dragging his feet. She buys him snacks, watches his favorite movies with him. She makes him smile, then laugh.

Then there is the day that Seita calls her Tsukuyo- _nee_ , and it feels like a flood of light has shone on her. Seita blushes a little at his own words, sneaks a glance at her face as if making sure it's allowed. She finds her own cheeks are warm. She reaches out and brushes her hand gently over his scalp. She has never felt so weak and boneless.

"You really are Hinowa's son," she breathes.

/

Despite her best efforts, the at-home tutoring doesn't go well. Seita is still a child; he has no foresight, does not understand how important it is for him to study. He doesn't face well the pressure of her presence next to him at the writing desk, even less her relentless quizzing. She wrings her hands in misery, redoubles her efforts. She memorizes dates, names, battles, recites them to herself and then to Seita. This backfires. What is wrong? Why does he not engage? Why does he not _learn_?

One day she comes home to find him asleep at his desk; he's missed dinner, Hinowa reports, trying to prepare for his quiz with Tsukuyo the next day. Her heart sinks. Flames lick at her ears. She feels immense shame.

/

"Will you help us?" Hinowa asks so casually, her smile never leaving her face. Still, her cheeriness stuns Tsukuyo sometimes. She turns to her. "I'm sorry, Tsukuyo," she admits, "You're so great at teaching the Hyakka new techniques, so I thought you'd make a great tutor as well, but…"

Of course, of course. Gintoki coming on the scene to fix Tsukuyo's mistakes. He brought Seita and Hinowa together, and now he will tutor Seita in history. Tsukuyo cannot read well, she cannot teach well. She is the warrior, the protector of Yoshiwara. Gintoki is...

"Yes!" Seita sits up abruptly, looking at Gintoki with a grin. "I've had it with Tsukuyo-nee! You teach me, Gin-san!" he begs, clinging to the man's arms. "You went to a temple school, so you must know proper studying methods, right?"

_Gintoki is everything else that Seita needs._

Gintoki stares back, big-eyed, his mouth carved into a grimace. Tsukuyo says nothing to help or hinder him. Seita sounds excited about his studies for the first time in weeks. She puffs on her pipe, looking serene, watching Gintoki's face. For the briefest moment, his eyes flick to Tsukuyo's. He looks more somber than she's seen him in a long time, almost apologetic.

Wordlessly, she gives her assent.

/

"Are you sure?" he still asks. He's standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She is turned away, smoking and carefully not thinking.

In the street, the kids are devouring ice cream, all crowding underneath Kagura's umbrella: Shinpachi holding it in one hand, Kagura next to him with a massive bowl of ice cream, then Seita crouched between Shinpachi's legs in the street. They're all mismatched, no one could mistake them for siblings. But there is an easiness to their body language, a comfort that Tsukuyo feels intensely grateful for. Seita takes her hand, he asks her for help, yes, but they have no easy closeness like this.

She sighs. "Seita needs to learn."

"I know you want to help him." His voice drops. "I know how hard you've worked."

"It doesn't matter," she answers, perhaps too quickly. "The most important thing is that he succeeds."

She hears a heavy sigh. Then, "What about your studies?"

Now Tsukuyo turns to face him, genuinely surprised. "My studies?"

Gintoki blinks blandly. "Yes." He does not offer more.

She pulls a slightly bitter smile. "What need have I for histories, science?" In a flash, kunai glint between her fingers. She looks at them, sets her mouth in a firm line. She feels menacing, powerful, more comfortable with these than with pens and paper. "I have my trade."

For a moment, no one moves or speaks.

Then he starts toward her writing desk, discreetly tucked in a corner. He pulls the writing notebook out from underneath and the brush and ink. He finds a blank page and writes something carefully. Tsukuyo moves toward him, looking over his shoulder. He hears her repeating the words he writes under her breath. Then he puts the brush down.

"There," he says. "Read these pages in the Japanese history book. The Heian-kyo. Later I will quiz you."

"What, are you mad?" she grumps. "You're not my sensei."

He moves back toward the door and glances over her shoulder. "No, I'm your tutor." A pause. An incomprehensible look comes across his face. "Reading should be everyone's trade, young, old, man, woman. Mothers. Everyone." Then he disappears. "Get to work!" he calls back.

/

She does, for a while. The words on the page are archaic, some are abstract. There are no pictures to help guide her comprehension. Soon, Tsukuyo's throat begins to run dry for reading aloud. She stands, straightens her spine, and goes to check on Gintoki and Seita.

Of course, they are up to absolute nonsense. Gintoki has a manga open, despite his serious-looking glasses. She knocks a kunai into him and glares from the doorway. _After lecturing me about my studies—!_ she huffs.

They get down to business after that. She stands outside the room, listening as discreetly as possible. Somehow gorillas enter Japanese national history, despite Seita's protests. Then Gintoki launches into a description of the Onin War that sounds remarkably like the latest sci-fi flick in theaters.

She steps into the room and strikes him with a couple kunai for good measure. She grabs him abruptly by the collar, and he makes a face.

"Don't twist history," she mutters darkly, her fingers itching for her weapons.

He holds up both hands in surrender. "We have to get him interested in history first," he hisses back.

She almost bashes the fool's head in right there, but then she sees the sparkle in Seita's eyes. He's asking questions: What next? Who is that? What about—? He never asked her questions. He's finally interested.

She releases Gintoki. A heavy sigh shakes her shoulders.

The afternoon continues in chaos. Gorillas enter and exit scenes almost at a whim; weapons become more convoluted. The major characters in the narrative microwave their sandals. Through it all, Seita continues asking questions, checking his comprehension from previous readings; he's actually learned a lot more than Tsukuyo realized. He questions Gintoki's story with a deep frown, tapping his small chin.

She plays along. "That was just a fake out," she asserts very confidently, with a straight face. Seita's eyes grow round at this new argument on the Onin War, and Gintoki snaps his head in her direction, looking incredulous. _You're jumping into this too_ — _?_

She ignores him. He continues to stare as she talks, willing her to understand that somehow the tutoring session needs to get back under control.

She glares back: _You started this, you finish it._

In the end, Hinowa fixes everything. She rolls back the door with a sharp thud, glasses glinting in the sunlight. "That's how the world we live in came to be. That's where our history truly begins," she concludes. Then rolls away, her eyes still laughing in Tsukuyo and Gintoki's direction. Everyone stares after her, winded beyond belief.

/

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Seita asks Gintoki eagerly, pulling at his sleeve. They've finished dinner, and he's beginning to make his way back up to the Surface.

"Oy, oy, I'm not sure you need me. Seems you have two Japanese history experts here already." Gintoki looks pointedly above Seita's head in Tsukuyo and Hinowa's direction. The boy turns around to them for a moment. Then goes back to pulling on Gintoki's clothes.

"Yes, but you went to school—"

"What is a school, Seita?"

The boy stops up short, baffled by the question. Gintoki stares back in his special way: both blank and warm.

"It's — it's a place where you can learn," Seita stumbles.

"You can learn anywhere."

"You have a teacher there," he counters.

"You can be your own teacher, with a little interest and discipline." After a beat, "And if you need help, there are people to help you." Again Gintoki looks pointedly above Seita's head.

He's quiet for a moment. "But, you—"

"I'm no teacher, obviously," Gintoki says with a sigh. He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "You'd be much better off with those two than with me." One last time, Gintoki meets Seita's eyes and holds him there. "Enjoy your mothers while you can, before you become a man."

Then he turns on his heel and starts for the Surface, leaving the boy watching his back in disbelief.

A few minutes later, down the street, Tsukuyo lands next to him from above and falls in step. He doesn't bother to question where she sprang from; this is her city, and every street corner and red lamp sizzles with her spirit.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" she asks, a great deal less eagerly than Seita had.

Still he chuckles. "No, I don't think I'm needed here."

She hesitates. "I think you might be."

"Seita is well taken care of by his mothers."

Tsukuyo stares straight ahead, she does not allow herself to look at him. "I'm not his mother," she reminds him. Then, in a voice so small he almost doesn't catch it: "I'll never be his mother."

Her sadness, so simple and stately, hands in the air for a moment.

"Sister, mother, what is the point in deciding?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders. Then he smiles at her in a way that smoothes the furrow in her brow. "You know how you are with him, who you are with him. You know what you would do for Seita. That's what matters."

Tsukuyo is quiet, measuring the impact of his words. She thinks she feels that sunlight again, streaming across her shoulders. She is warm, she feels soft. She remembers how Gintoki's face looks when Shinpachi asks him for help, when Kagura hangs around his neck. He is supremely confident in his role as _family_ , be it big brother, father, or anything else.

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, wonders if she could really learn to be gentle. _I think_ — and she almost doesn't finish her thought, she is so terrified — _I think I would be gentle to you_.

"What about my studies?" she finally asks.

Then a smile breaks on Gintoki's face: it is a whole dawn in a winter sky.

"Now that I might be able to help with."

/

When she returns home, Tsukuyo finds Seita sitting at the dinner table with his history book open. He's reading carefully, mumbling the words under his breath, finger to the page for his eyes to follow. Next to his elbow are notes he's been taking very carefully. When she steps inside, he looks up.

"Tsukuyo-nee, can you help me with this? I don't know this word."

And there is a third immoveable fact: in that moment, she uncovers a wellspring of gentleness. She dips her toe in its lush waters, sighs, feels its pull. It is warm there in that spring. _I will be gentle to you_ , she promises.

Then sits down next to him and nudges the book closer to her.

"Which word? Let's figure it out together."

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.

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_Fin._

Thank you.

* * *


End file.
